Arms out, Geo had said, and Angelo can see how he will be restrained now. One arm lines up with each side of the crossbar, and his legs can be bound at the ankles by the rings on the cuffs.

The moment he has his socks and shoes off, stands naked in front of the thing, Geo’s hands are at his feet. With intent and the tiniest flare of arousal, the wolf man watches the leather close tight around his ankles, one at a time.

The rings at the sides of the cuffs are attached to the cross at the base, a little apart, so that his ass is settled in the empty space of the vertical centerpiece. He can move up on his toes, then down again, but not more than that, and his cock and balls hang free between his parted thighs.

“Comfortable?”

Angelo shrugs, unwilling to voice how vulnerable the position makes him feel, then looks down one arm at his wrist as invisible fingers close around it. “I guess.” The cuff is put on and hooked onto the horizontal crosspiece the same way his ankles have been restrained at the bottom of the cross, and he breathes a little faster.

“Then you need a safe word, before I get started.” The sounds of Geo’s movement around him are smooth, steady, calm, but the spicy musk of his scent is gaining aroused depth. He trails his fingers across Angelo’s nipples, his chest, then down his arm to his right wrist where he attaches the last cuff.

“Safe…word?” There’s a soft chuckle as Geo fastens the leather to the cross. Angelo tugs experimentally, and finds himself caught fast.

“You really don’t play like this much, do you?” Cool, not too tight, the collar Angelo had eyed goes around his throat as Geo leans in, pausing to stroke the edge of the leather with callused fingers. “The safe word is so I know if you need me to stop.”

Angelo rolls his eyes as he listens to the soft padding of Geo’s feet move across the room, away from him to the table covered in toys. “I could just tell you to stop, y’know.”

“No. That’s not enough. If you use the safe word I know it’s not part of the game, not just you denying something you actually want. It will tell me what’s too much for you, really too much. So I don’t do it again.”

The mirrors aren’t angled properly to let him see what Geo has brought back from that table with him until the man is behind him – and then Angelo’s own body is in the way. The first touch, though it startles him, is not a toy, but the brush of Geo’s fingers down his spine. “Safe word, I said. Choose something you won’t say accidentally in the middle of this.”

Angelo snickers, but only a little. It’s hard to keep from staring at himself in the mirror, the way the dark leather of the cuffs stands out against his tan skin, the way his cock is thickening, stiffening. He’s anticipating and anxious despite himself. And now…a word he won’t say during sex? “I dunno. Uh…pineapple? I hate those.” He grins. “That good enough?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, abruptly, “Yes,” and the strike of something cool and smooth and hard against his ass.

“Ah! Shit, that fuckin’ hurts!” Again, right where the first blow had struck, another sends searing flames across the surface of his ass, then another, and another. For a moment, Geo pauses, but this time the caress is too hot, stings the freshly struck skin.

“Should I stop before I even get started, Angelo?”

Mocking him – The wolf man glares all around him, hoping he catches Geo somewhere. “No, I didn’t say stop, I just – oh!” Again, and again, and again. One side, then the other. It hurts, but –

Angelo sucks in a breath, jerks against the cuffs holding him still, then bites his lip as a moan slips out of him and his cock throbs against his thigh. Another blow, and his erection thickens even more. The heat in his ass sends tendrils lapping up his back, down his thighs, deep into his ass.

After another half-dozen swats Angelo is panting, staring at his twitching cock in disbelief. It hurts, God does it hurt, but…he thinks he likes it. “Why did you stop? Why did -”

There’s a click as Geo puts down the paddle on top of the cross. “Why did I stop? That’s a pleasant surprise. Not what I thought I would be hearing from you, but very nice.”

A little gasp of something close to laughter escapes Angelo’s mouth, and he tugs at the cuffs again as if that will help. “Me – me either. Wha – ahh…” His words fade to breath as the telling heat of Geo’s hands spreads open over his buttocks again.

“I think you might need a little help, Angelo. I didn’t expect you to respond so well. Have you used a cock ring before?”

“Yeah. Not on myself, but – ugh. That’s tight.” The wolf man bucks his hips into the air as smooth metal slides down the length of his shaft, then flushes and tries to hold himself still. Tries – but the feather light touches of Geo’s fingertips moving back up over the head of his cock are hard to resist. The paddle has made him want much more than just to be teased, and Angelo curses beneath his breath.

Today is a deathless day…or should I say, the day of Deathless? Now on early release at Pride Publishing, this second Tale of the Eight Kingdoms starts in the ancient woods of Britain, ten thousand years before the events of book one, and takes us to the meeting of Kas and Myrddin, and the first Spring Rite.

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt from the very beginning of Deathless!

Chapter One

The nights were growing chill, but the change of the autumn foliage had turned the river valley into a sea of flames. Leaves fell like sparks, browned the underbrush and bared the branches of the wood, but not only the canopy was failing. On a bier in the open, breathing slowly and quietly, Myrddin’s mother, the old chief’s daughter, lay dying.

“Mother, you can’t go!”

“Oh, it’s time. It’s past time, Myrddin. Look at you, my little shoot. You don’t change any more, but you’ve grown, and your mother is old and only a woman. Now is my time.”

Myrddin gripped her fingers tightly. The lines of her face were smooth, but worn, and her hand was limp in his grasp. The only brightness left in her was in the green shimmer of her gaze. Already he could feel her slipping away.

He supposed he should be grateful it was happening now, at the end of autumn, and not when he’d already begun his winter sleep. But how could he be? Grateful. He could have hated it—her dying—if she didn’t look so much like she was letting go of something heavy that she’d carried for far too long.

It was still agonizing to watch.

Why did death have to come so gently? Like a fall of rain—like falling asleep after making love. Myrddin could have hated it, except that she welcomed its coming.

“You’re going where I can’t follow, Mother. I won’t have anyone if you…when you die.”

She laughed, or at least she made a sound that was something like it, and he winced. “You have to learn to let go. Let it be. We’re all mortal, aren’t we? Yes, all of us but you. And you…my son, if you can’t learn to let us go, you’ll have no companion but pain, and that’s…not…what I wanted for you.”

“Mother…”

Red leaves fell onto the furs that covered her, then mingled with her hair as she tried to lift her head. One descended lightly into the spread-open fingers of her unclasped hand, and she smiled. “You’ll have to learn. You will, won’t you? Promise me you will.”

“I—promise.”

“Good boy. Now, let them bring me where I want to go.”

Myrddin lifted his gaze. Her bearers were already waiting around them, their eyes averted from the final parting of mother and son. “Mother. You don’t have to do this. What good is it to just—”

“I want to die where it began. That’s all. For you, and for me. Won’t you come with me? I won’t make a journey in this world again.”

He stared at her, almost shook his head, then squeezed her fingers and let go. “I’ll be watching. I can’t… I’ll just…be watching.”

She sighed, reached up and patted his cheek with her free hand, and the bearers came forward and took up her bier with careful hands. His mother’s fingers slipped out of Myrddin’s grip, and he stepped back, and back, watched her go into the forest then turned and fled up the side of the valley. The sun was setting, and the evening came full of swallowing shadows that he followed along the ridge above the crest of the valley.

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear it, but he was equally incapable of avoiding it, of denying her or leaving her behind. Even at a distance, even in darkness, he could see the cortege accompanying his mother’s body, heard the wails of the tribe’s women as they fell in line behind. He wanted to go to her, stand with her, wait until the end, but he couldn’t do it. Not this.

As he thought it, the wind moved, a sudden hush of gusts that nearly blew him over. It was only then, forced out of his grief, that Myrddin felt the oncoming tide. Power was flowing around him, the green whispering. The wildlife was growing awake, aware, and the blood of his father inside him, the immortal link that connected Myrddin to the growing and greening of the world, pulsed alive.

The whisper rose through the wood until it was a roar among the leaves, a howl in the throats of wolves. The sudden baying of stags mingled with a thousand fluted melodies as the birds scattered from the trees, and the trees bowed, bent, rolled their shoulders and tossed their heads with no need for the wind.

Still, the wind was rising, carrying whispers and roars, howls and birds. Awake! Wild spirits of the spring sped past Myrddin, not focused on him, not paying him any attention, and he closed his eyes but couldn’t close his mind to the message. Awake! He comes, He comes.

Myrddin didn’t need to wonder who. There was only one reason for this much excitement in the wild. My father is coming and why? Now? When it’s too late for him to do anything. A flush of rage replaced his grief, but it was rage tempered by truth and sense. His mother had been an offering since before he was born. That had been the reason why he was born. She had belonged to his father from the moment she had chosen to give herself as a gift to the God.

I was just the result, not the fulfillment. My mother, but she belongs to Father as she has always done.

There had never been any doubt about his father. His mother had been taken, and given a child, and returned…and he was that child, bound to the spring as much as to the mortal world—or more, maybe.

Immortal powers were stronger. Immortal purposes were more demanding than anything but death, and Myrddin remembered his birth—remembered his first year as well as yesterday.

By the end of his first summer, dressed in a loincloth of leather and painted with the brown mud of the forest, he had toddled behind the hunting men. By the end of his first autumn, he’d been strong and straight enough of limb to walk with them. He’d had the look of a boy of ten years, though he couldn’t yet count even one, but he had carried no weapon and only clung to the edges of their sight.

It hadn’t been their prey that he was after, only the wilderness that ran before their footsteps…until autumn had ended, and the first snow had begun to fall.

Snow. Timeless and endless and white, it had fascinated him, then made him irresistibly drowsy. He’d gone to his mother and spoken his first words.

“Mother, I’m tired.”

“Then sleep, dear one. Sleep…”

And then, and every year since, her lullaby had gentled him into the dark. He had slept through the winter and its whiteness, the long, cold months. Only his mother had never been surprised. Like the spring shoots, he had grown and blossomed with the passing of the seasons. She had thought it only natural that winter was time for him to sleep.

“But there won’t be anyone to sing me to sleep this year.”

The flush of anger at his father gave way to grief again, and Myrddin looked up and saw that his mother and the villagers who followed her had almost passed out of sight. He caught up quickly, with the feeling he was stepping in his father’s footsteps as he crossed the ridge line back down toward the floor of the valley.

The procession wound through the trees, bringing his mother one final time through the wood she loved. Myrddin stopped when it stopped, and stood still, arrested in place for no reason he could explain. It felt wrong to move forward, though he could sense his mother’s death coming for her, walking toward her. It was here, in the wood! On the path—in the clearing—right in front of him…

A silence the likes of which Myrddin had never experienced came crashing down.

He tried to take another step forward, but the air was heavy, liquid and too thick to move through. In the same instant, Myrddin saw a shadow dart from the forest with the speed of a fleeing beast, the speed of a predator following. He saw a moment in which darkness lay itself like a shroud of shadow over his mother, a shadow the shade of the forest canopy at night.

Then, color flowed into the dark. His father. The God was green, green and growing as the vivid earth, green as the forest leaves, and He was brown, as the eyes of the stag and the pelt of the stag, and His eyes were black as the rich, turned earth of spring.

“Father… What…are you doing?”

The words fell heavy as stones from Myrddin’s mouth and disturbed the silence, but not the frozen moment. He took a breath and held it as his father bent and lifted his mother in his arms.

“And now it is time for you to come with me.” His father’s voice did not disturb anything, nor his mother’s, as it came just after.

“Is this what dying is?”

Myrddin heard his father laughing.

“Yes. No.”

The world snapped open and shut.

Want more? Grab Deathlesshere, on early release at Pride Publishing, before it’s out anywhere else!

Welcome, glorious beings! I hope the day finds you well, because today…we have a special guest! Say hello to Raven Dark, provider of last week’s Friday Fun post, writer of erotic romance, and especially BDSM erotica!

Who is Raven Dark? As a young girl she dreamed of being abducted by a savage alien warrior, whisked away by a brutal pirate, or rescued by a cape-bearing hero. When none of these men came to claim her, she brought them to life in her stories. Then twelve years ago she met the man of her dreams. He doesn’t wear a cape, fly a spaceship, or wield a sword, but sometimes she swears they’ve mind melded.

Currently, Raven lives with her dream man and their one cat that thinks she’s a dog in the Mundane world’s version of Ontario, Canada. When she isn’t working on her latest erotic romance novels and crafting interesting worlds in which to set them, she’s spending too much time with friends, feeding her Youtube addiction, or curled up on a couch watching favorite shows with her future husband…

But today, she’s here to share a bit about her upcoming full length debut novel, Unlawful Desire, and give us some insight into why she writes!

From The Author’s Pen…

I’m often asked why I write erotic romance and BDSM, but especially BDSM. It’s difficult to define what draws me to this genre because every story I write is different, but I can tell you what drew me to write Unlawful Desire, the book that just went live today.

Over the few years I’ve been writing and reading BDSM, researching into the lifestyle, I’ve noticed an alarming misunderstanding surrounding the genre. Specifically the view a lot of people have, that BDSM’ers enjoy abusing or hurting others, or they like being abused.

This is simply not true. There are practitioners who are into pain or humiliation, but properly done scenes come with informed consent and a safeword, safety protocols that an abusive relationship doesn’t have. Abuse is about power, whereas BDSM, when done correctly, is about fulfilling a fantasy both parties are into. Plus, humiliation, pain, those aspects of BDSM are only a small portion of a much broader world. The misconception is so prevalent it boggles the mind. I’ve lost count of how many times people have asked me why I like writing about “freaks who like abusing others.” Or why a strong, independent woman would want to “let a man abuse her.”

Yes, really.

When Unlawful Desire’s plotline came to me, I saw the perfect opportunity to incorporate the misconceptions that surround the lifestyle through the hero and heroine’s experiences.

As a professional Domme and former sub in the small town of Clayton-Moss, Annabella (or Ella, as everyone but Rock calls her) deals with this exact misconception every day. Having found out about it when Ella suffered an accident from a scene gone bad, her family disapproves of her kinky lifestyle, and they make no bones about it from the very start.

Simply because of his involvement in BDSM, they see Rock, her ex and former Dom, as an abuser, and Ella as being too blind to see what he was doing to her. Because Ella is also the daughter of one of Clayton-Moss’s founding families and the future heir to the town’s major real estate business, she’s a predominant figure. She deals with the same problem a lot of people face, knowledge that most of the people around her won’t understand her lifestyle choice, so it’s vital she keeps it under wraps. Especially with someone trying to blackmail her out of her empire.

On the surface, Unlawful Desire is an erotic romance about a couple getting a second chance at love, while teaming up to overthrow a greedy land developer who’s trying to take over Ella’s father’s empire. But there is a deeper underlying theme which I think makes this story stand out.

A lot of people become scared the first time they fantasize about their partner tying them up, thinking they’re wrong in the head. Even with how much more awareness there is toward kink these days, people fear they’ll be labeled sick or demented.

I’m hoping readers, especially ones who question their kinky side, will take away from the book an understanding of themselves. Individuals who into BDSM are not weird or sick, they don’t need curing, and they aren’t monsters. They’re normal, everyday people who come from all walks of life. A healthy fantasy life is not only beneficial, but chances are, everyone has at least one, even if it’s on the mild end.

This theme is only touched on in the first book, but each novel within the Men of Clayton-Moss series (each of which are stand-alone and deal with a different couple) is intended to delve deeper into the problems that arise from ignorance and stereotyping, as well as what happens when people prey on our fear of the unknown.

Overall, I love writing erotic romances because they tap into something so many women want, and don’t see enough of in real life. Happy endings and falling in that forever kind of love. But when it comes to the BDSM, at least with Unlawful Desire and my Men of Clayton-Moss series, I wanted to offer up something more than the standard fair. I wanted to open people’s eyes and tell those who might need to hear it, they are normal. They are worthy of love, and there is someone out there for them who will understand.

Thank you Belinda for having me, and for giving me this chance to talk about my baby!

From the back cover: Their deepest secret could be their destruction…or their salvation.

Curvy ex-submissive Annabella Clayton has no problem taking charge in the boardroom, or the bedroom. But as the future head of a major real estate empire in the small town of Clayton-Moss, she has to keep her life as a Domme under wraps. When greedy land developer Jake Scalder threatens to ruin her father’s business any way he can, she knows her BDSM lifestyle would cause just the kind of scandal he needs. Her only chance to save all that she and her father have built is to team up with gorgeous, relentless lawyer Rock McCarthy. Trouble is, Rock’s also her former Dom, and the man she let walk out of her life six years ago.

While scrambling to expose Scalder’s corruption, their passions reignite, burning hotter than ever. Rock reawakens the hunger for his dominance Annabella’s buried for so long. But while he drives her deeper into his addictive world of rough fantasy, their enemy draws closer to discovering their forbidden secret. Can they take Scalder down before his plans succeed? Or will he destroy Annabella’s reputation and tear her and Rock apart forever?

Warning! This book contains a BBW heroine who likes filthy talk and being called names in bed, plus a broody lawyer who’s happy to oblige. There are a few mild, brief ravishment scenes that are clearly role-play, but if you have triggers, please do not buy this book!

Excerpt: “Funny, I heard mention of a Mistress E. from one or two of the men at the club, but I never dreamed it would be you. How long have you been switching?”

“I don’t, not really.” She looked away. “I don’t sub anymore.”

“Never?”

“Nope.” A leaden sensation settled in Rock’s stomach as she got up from the couch and walked across the room to the window. She worked her hands over her lower back. From pain, or just a nervous habit?

He stood and followed her. His hands itched to work free the tension in her shoulders “Why did you stop subbing?”

“That’s a long story. I don’t want to talk about it.” She bowed her head and he could hear the pain in her voice.

Who hurt you? Protectiveness for her rode him hard but he forced himself not to press. “All right…” He bit back the urge to call her “girl,” the way he had when she was his. He had no claim to her now. If what she said was true, he never would again.

She turned to him. “I’ve asked you twice, more than I ever ask a man anything Rock. Why are you here?”

A smirk pulled at his mouth, heat spreading through his cock. “Nice dominance, Annabella. Too bad I don’t submit.”

“Ever?”

“Nope.” He wasn’t turned on by having a woman take control of him, but the possibility of fighting her for dominance made him hard as steel.

“Too bad you aren’t mine anymore. If you were, I’d tan your hide exactly like I used to when you stepped out of line.”

Her teeth flashed in a stunning grin. Despite what she’d said about not subbing anymore, he couldn’t mistake the heat in her eyes at his words, or the way she lowered them a fraction from his before her chin jerked back up.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

“And now I’m not going to. This is too much fun, watching you deal with a man you can’t command.”

“Ugh.” She spun to the window and he thought he heard her wince, her back tensing. “You’re as much of a jackass as you were six years ago.”

This time he couldn’t resist setting his hands on her shoulders and massaging them gently. His chest hitched when he felt the thick layers of tension there and the quivering breath she let out.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “You all right?”

“Why did you come back?”

“Disappointed?”

“No, but…”

The tightness in his chest loosened. He turned her around and cupped her face. “I’ve missed you, Annabella.”

Something flickered in her eyes, but he couldn’t define it. She didn’t speak, but lay her hand on his cheek. Did that mean she missed him, too? God, he couldn’t let her leave now, never knowing where things could have gone.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

She drew a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“You know it can’t go anywhere. You are a Dom all the way and I can’t give you what you want. Not anymore.”

For this week’s Friday Fun, we have another guest! Say hello to Raven Dark, who’s stopping by with an excerpt from the first part of her completed “Teach Me” series, Doing Wright.

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: 19 year old Jacy is a college girl with a wild and wicked streak. She’s always had a penchant for older men, so it’s no surprise she’d fantasize about being taken by her professor in every possible way. Then again, her imagination’s always gotten her into trouble.

When the sinfully gorgeous Mr. Wright shows up at her door one night, she’s sure she can tempt the brooding alpha male into taking control and claiming what he needs, but at what price?

He’ll give her a night she’ll never forget, but she’s been to this party before with disastrous results. Will their tryst be the best night of her life, or the worst mistake she’s ever made?

Excerpt

Someone pounded on the front door and Jacy jumped. Who would be knocking on her parents’ door this time of night?

Downstairs, she looked through the glass in the door. Her breath caught, heat spreading through her like lava. Professor Wright stood on her front porch, holding up her schoolbag.

Jacy opened the door.

“You left this behind. Again, Miss Davidson.”

She swallowed. He was here. Standing right in front of her in all his glory. His dark blond hair glowed golden in porch light, and he took up the whole doorway. Even with that permanent scowl, like he was always on the verge of slamming a ruler on a desk, he was still delicious. In fact, that cool, hard look only made her wonder how his palm would feel smacking her backside.

Crap. Already, her mind was spinning, trying to come up with a way to get him in her house. Anything to end up alone with him.

Before she could say something catastrophically stupid, Jacy snatched the bag out of his hand. “Th—thank you, Professor.”

For an instant, their fingers brushed and heat raced up her arm. The electricity only underscored how dangerous it was for her to be around him now. She stepped back from the door, ready to shut it in his face.

Jacy’s jaw dropped. Mortification and indignation tore into her. How dare he! She hadn’t left her bag on purpose just for an excuse to see him. She hadn’t. Had she?

“It was only twice, sir. And don’t flatter yourself. I’m a busy student. I forget things.”

His eyes danced with rare amusement. The curve of a smile on his well-shaped mouth almost looked out of place. It gave him a charming, roguish look, much less imposing. Her bare feet curled on the tile floor.

“Right. See you tomorrow in class. Nice dress, by the way.”

Jacy huffed at his arrogance. The compliment sent an unwelcome shockwave through her. She would have shut the door on him, but her indignation wouldn’t allow him to walk off without cutting him down to size.

“You’re the one who drove an hour out here to drop off a student’s bag. Are you sure you didn’t just want to see me, sir?”

Holy shit. Had she actually said that? Ground, swallow me now.

But Wright turned and that curve on his mouth deepened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Miss Davidson?”

She stared. It wasn’t a denial. His gaze took in her shape, the way the bodice of her dress cupped her generous breasts, the way it flared at her curvy hips.

She needed to say something, anything to slice that arrogance in half, but nothing came.

“Good night, Miss Davidson.”

Son of a bitch. Her muscles coiled tight with every step he took down the stairs. She pushed out a breath.

“You came here for more than my bag, Professor, and you know it.”

A soft chuckle drifted up from him. Then he turned and stalked back up the steps, stopping so close she could feel the heat of him. He loomed darkly over her.

“Get inside, young lady.”

When she lifted her chin, he leaned in, so close his breath fanned her face. It smelled faintly of the peppermint gum he always had on his desk.

“It’s not safe for a girl like you to be out here at night. The big, bad wolf might eat you.”

Friday Fun is back! For this week’s, we’re off to the Eight Kingdoms for a taste of sexy goodness. Book four, The Shadow Road, is currently available for preorder…and full of temptations!

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: In the wake of Dealla’s latest atrocity, Macsen has learned a lesson he will never forget. To love is to fear, and he intends to make sure that his fear never comes to pass. Bran is less than pleased with being left behind while Macsen hunts Dealla, but he has trouble of his own to distract him. An unknown ability is growing in him—magic that has nothing of Summer in it. Disturbed, Bran convinces Macsen to come with him to question his mother. Only she knows who Bran’s father is, and the secret half of his bloodline is the most likely source of his new power.

Elenn agrees to Bran’s request, but for her own reasons. Faelan, one of the gancanagh, is to be Bran’s guide to his father, and she has ordered him to seduce the Red King and prove his love false. Faelan has no desire to follow through, but also no choice. His queen has commanded, and he must obey.

Macsen and Bran aren’t the only lovers whose feelings are being put to the test. After five thousand years of separation, Myrddin has no choice but to accept Kas’ help in restoring the spring and its rite to the mortal world. The difficulty is that he wants Kas to desire him for himself, not out of necessity, and the whole of reality is standing in his way.

Where is the line that divides determination from desire? Love is power—but is it enough?

Excerpt

Macsen ran his fingers through the wild mess of Bran’s hair, bent to his mouth and pressed Bran back against the table behind him, back and back until he was sprawled half across it. “Did you miss me? You taste like you missed me.”

Bran arched up into his arms, hooked a leg around Macsen’s legs and held him close for a deeper kiss.

“Does that mean yes? Bran… I missed you, Bran.” His hands were cold, cold like they hadn’t been since the beginning. His mouth, too, was cold—cold against Bran’s mouth, his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. He could tell just by how hot Bran felt against him. “Missed you… Missed you.”

He wrapped his arms around Bran’s body, curled himself over him and kissed the curve of his ear. “Tell me you’re well, Anwylyd.” And again, against the line of his throat, “I missed you.”

“I’m fine. Fine. Better now that you’re home.” He turned a little in the circle of Macsen’s arms. “I missed you too.” He lifted his mouth expectantly, and Macsen pressed closer, kissed him again more deeply. “Hmm…” Bran pulled back. “You’re so cold.”

“Yes. And you are hot.” Macsen drew Bran up, kicked the bench out of the way and pushed him back onto the table. Bits of gold scattered, glinting in the firelight and ringing as they rolled and fell.

“Not here. You’re going to make a mess, Macsen.”

“Yes, let’s make a mess.” Macsen ran his tongue over the line of Bran’s throat as he tilted his head back, down along his collarbone to his shoulder. “A beautiful mess.” Faintly, the pattern of his own teeth was marked there, the scar of the bite he had left to heal on its own at Bran’s request, when they’d begun their courtship, when he’d had to leave…

As it had every time since the first time he’d noticed the scar, the sight filled him with desire, woke all his possessive instincts. Maybe no one else could see it, but it didn’t matter. Indelible, it beckoned him, called to him. This time when he gave in to his own desire and bit deep, seeking Bran’s blood, it was just in that place, aligning the new bite with the marks of the old.

Bran shuddered in his arms, groaned and twitched his hips up against Macsen’s body. “The floor—everything is going to—Macsen, you…ohhh…” But Bran couldn’t make the words into a sentence, and his body betrayed the truth of his desire. He didn’t relax his embrace, and one moaning exhalation after another came hot against Macsen’s skin. His fingers crawled up Macsen’s back and held tight.

“I’ll help you pick everything up. Later. Now, make more sounds for me.”

Macsen’s voice was rough with blood, with the feral rush that was the result of such a feast as he had made for himself in the mortal world. Winter’s strength was restless in him, his own power was building on the heels of it, and beside all those things the wanton willingness of his lover—beloved, beautiful, groaning under him, muttering his name again and again… It flushed him with lust.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t give me, Bran?” He murmured the words against the soft heat of Bran’s throat. “Anything I could ask to which you might say no?”

There was no answer but moaning, the soft exhalation of hot breath as Macsen slipped his hands under Bran’s tunic. Bran moved in his arms, wrapped his legs around Macsen’s back, reached up into his hair with both hands.

Macsen knew what he wanted, all of what he wanted, and laughed all but silently against the curve of his shoulder. “A mess, you said. I will make a mess of you, and everything, everything. I’m going to take you right here.” He pushed Bran back onto the table. There was a clatter and chiming as more metal fell to the ground and Bran lay back across the empty space, his fingers grasping at Macsen’s arms.

For an instant he looked back over his shoulder, trying to see what had fallen, but Macsen took hold of his trousers in both hands and tore them from him—ripped the laces and the soft sidhe silk right down the seams. Then he bent and bit at the curve of Bran’s hip, kissed a line along the shallow curve of his pelvis, nipped the soft skin of his thigh and set the blood flowing. It made a red stream that he followed greedily with his tongue.

Moans, and “More,” and “More,” came from Bran, and Macsen wet his fingers with oil and pressed two of them deep. There was a dark flush on Bran’s cheeks, his throat, his chest, and Macsen knew there would be fire soon, the beckoning heat Bran could never restrain. He slipped his other hand from Bran’s thigh to his cock, rubbed his thumb over the head.

Fire reached out and wrapped around his arms, his waist, slipped into his clothes and under them, tugging at his skin. He resisted the urge to give in at the first touch, resisted while filaments of heat licked at his cock, brushed over his nipples, slipped past his lips on his every breath. He could feel Bran’s want of him in every touch, and there was pleasure in each one of those demanding caresses.

Macsen bent and took the head of Bran’s cock into his mouth, just for the taste of him, and his hands darted down to cup the back of Macsen’s head. He licked his lips and stood straight again, pulled Bran the tiniest bit closer, right to the edge of the table, and replaced his fingers with his cock. He didn’t say a word, gave no warning, and Bran gasped under him, clawed at his shoulders, pulled himself tight against Macsen’s body and let out one long cry. It was just what Macsen wanted, his name drawn out into an unrecognizable sound.

“Open up for me just like that. So good, Bran.”

Bran shook, shuddered, and trembled finally as he relaxed. Everything was heat, and the fire clutched at Macsen’s skin, but Bran was so tight around his cock he couldn’t move. The pleasure was a torment. It was so hot—so hot—there was just one distraction, and he held Bran against his body and bit deep into his throat, sucked up the red, dark blood.

The first mouthful was enough to take Bran shuddering over the edge, all but untouched, heart speeding under Macsen’s tongue, all of him shaking and his cock throbbing its white essence in pulses between them. His body gripped Macsen’s cock almost painfully, then relaxed while he tightened his fingers in Macsen’s hair again and again.

He stayed still and let Bran ride out his climax, took slow mouthfuls from the brilliant spill at his throat. Brighter. Brighter than it had been since they had left Summer. Was it the power Bran used for his work?

So much sun.

Slowly, Macsen pulled back, then thrust deeper, again and again. He felt desire as it sneaked back into Bran’s body, up his calves and his trembling thighs, into the tautness of his buttocks and the sudden tenseness of his hips. The shadow of fire trembled across his skin as he arched back, flickered over his abdomen, his chest. There was fire in his blood, too, as it streamed over Macsen’s tongue and down his throat.

Summer, it was Summer green and gold, rich juices and wine. He knew he should pull back but Bran’s fingers were tight against his scalp, his skin. The heat of his cock was rigid and twitching against Macsen’s belly, and his hips rocked back against every thrust, begging for more. His whole body was begging for more, his eyes closed and his mouth open for wordless groans.

Faster. Deeper. Harder, until he had to hold Bran still with both hands, grip his hip and shoulder to keep him still against his mouth. The tightness and the fire, the almost-pain where Bran pulled his hair, dug his fingers into Macsen’s back… So good. Pleasure overwhelmed him, one sharp pulse after another spilling out of him and into Bran. Bran cried out a little, shivered, then begged.

“Please, I’m so close, please.” He tugged harder at Macsen’s hair, and Macsen slipped his hand between them, stroked Bran’s cock—but he still pulled, gasped, demanded, and the heaving curve of his throat was too much vulnerability, too much temptation for Macsen to resist. He bit deeper, took more, and Bran locked his legs behind Macsen’s hips and groaned out his release.

This week, I’m sharing a bit of steamy Sunday fun from a new guest! Welcome author Jamie Steele, who is sharing a bit from their new release, Provocateur.

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Author Bio: Jamie is an international author of mystery. Originally born in the quiet country of New Zealand Jamie packed their bags and headed towards the bright lights of London.Published author by night and superhero by day Jamie is always up to no good.

Come read Provocateur and enter the mind and world of London’s underground.

Excerpt

Carter strained beneath him. He was already close to losing control, barely able to think. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his pants, and he wanted nothing more than to be flipped onto his knees and fucked. Hard, fast and brutal. Carter moaned as Brandon’s mouth once again moved over his face and neck. He was moving slowly, too slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, and as if Carter wasn’t about to come, untouched like a sixteen year old during his first time. Brandon’s cock twitching at the sound of his voice, his hips rubbing against Carter’s. “Christ” Carter whispered hoarsely.

“You like that?” Brandon chuckled. His hands moved down to the trailing ends of Carter’s shirt, undoing each of the tiny grey buttons. Ever so gently, Brandon untied his hands before swiftly removing his shirt, and retying him once again to the headboard. Brandon’s mouth and tongue explored the crevices of Carter’s muscles, slowly, lightly, tormenting him with each touch. Carter’s body stood tense and ready, electrified by the loss of sight and touch, trying to guess where Brandon’s lips would caress him next.

Instinctively, Carter’s hips widened, as he pressed himself higher, pushing his crotch closer to Brandon’s and allowing the other man to sink into the space, as his hands once again crept further down his body. He felt Brandon’s soft hands work at the button of his jeans, a fingertip, a knuckle, grazing against his smooth belly. Too slow, Carter thought as he pressed against his touch again, more desperate this time, Brandon’s thumbs tracking the deep V above his hips.

With deft movement, Brandon lifted Carter’s ass, and slid down his jeans. His mouth pressing lightly against the large bulge in Carter’s boxer briefs, teasing him through the fabric. “Please” he heard Carter moan underneath him. Agonisingly slowly, he freed Carter, sliding his underwear down his legs and off before running his hand gently down his silky cock, hard beneath his hand. “Impressive” he whispered against the the skin of Carter’s belly. Swirling his tongue over the tip, he felt Carter raise his hips to meet his mouth. With a burst of speed, Brandon moved faster, taking more of Carter into his mouth. His tongue swirling patterns against him, sucking gently. With one hand focused on the task at hand, Brandon fumbled with his own belt, unable to take the constrains of his own clothing against him.

Carter was on fire, with the loss of his sight, every sense was intensified a hundred times. When he felt his cock enter the warm, wet heat of Brandon’s mouth, his control slipped. His hips bucked to meet him, Brandon’s tongue gliding over him with expertise. He was desperate to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin on his hands. To feel the softness of Brandon’s skin against his, to stroke what he was sure was a fantastic cock. To taste him again. He could hear the distant rustle as Brandon freed himself from his own clothing.

Want more? Try this teaser of next week’s Friday Fun, from my own new erotic short, Otavia In October!

Otavia licked her lips, breathless. He wanted her. Wanted to share her with his pack. A sudden image assaulted her, of herself on her knees with Luka behind her, Ares in her mouth and more men around her. She rubbed her thighs together and shivered. That was—god. But she couldn’t say yes, how could she say yes?

“I can’t, I can’t.”

“What if I gave you an excuse, Otavia? What if I said it was the price for your freedom?”

“Ohh.” It was almost a moan, and it escaped her before she could help herself. He chuckled, and before she could even think of moving Luka had her pinned between himself and Ares.

For this week’s Friday Fun, it’s back to my own recent releases! As promised, have a taste of First Nights, which will be out as soon as Amazon approves!

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: A single day spent in the throes of passion is enough to convince Stelios that his brother’s omega, Niketas, is more than worth keeping around. Stelios may only be Niketas’ other Alpha, but he’s still the only man Niketas has ever had for a lover., and there’s something more than pleasing about teaching him the limits of his own body.

Niketas isn’t concerned with limits – he just wants Stelios. After so long pointlessly lusting after Luka, he’s more than willing to try everything Stelios has to offer him.

Their first nights together will be an exploration of pleasure…and perhaps of something more. They come from different worlds, and it might not be a good idea, but it seems like neither one can keep from getting attached.

Excerpt

Stelios was so hot. So hot, and the head of his cock was smooth as satin on Niketas’ tongue. Niketas had thought there would be some flavor, like the scent of his skin, but everything had been washed away by the water. Stelios leaned back against the edge of the tub and let Niketas take more of his cock into his mouth, and more – god there was no way he was going to be able to take it all, but he wanted to and he didn’t even know why. He tried to remember what women had done to him, what felt good, or what he’d wanted, then pulled up and curled his tongue around the head of Stelios’ cock.

Stelios sucked in a breath, and Niketas was surprised at the instant pulse of heat that flickered to life in his belly. He did it again, wanted to make Stelios moan for him, then sucked him down harder, licked the length of his cock and tried to take more than before. He choked a little, then lifted his head to take a breath and tried again – god so much cock, there was no way, no way, but he wanted it, wanted to-

Stelios reached out and pulled his hair, tugged his head back until Niketas only had the head of his cock in his mouth, could look up and meet his eyes. “If you want to take it all, I’ll help you. But you don’t have to. I know it’s your first time.”

His cock twitched a little on Niketas’ tongue as he said that, got even harder, and Niketas felt himself flushing. He rolled his tongue around the tip and oh that was it. There was the taste of him, salt and Stelios.

So good. He tastes so –

Niketas tried more tongue, sucked harder, took Stelios deeper into his mouth with every stroke, then pulled up again. Oh yeah. He lifted his mouth off and licked wetness from the tip of Stelios’ cock, then did it all over again.

“Fuck, look at you. You like the taste of me, Niketas?”

Niketas flushed darker, scowled and looked up at Stelios anyway. “So what if I do, I-”

“Gorgeous. No idea what you look like, do you? On your knees for me, licking my cock like that. Just for the taste of me.” He tugged at Niketas’ hair, then leaned back again, shifted his hips so more of his cock stood out from the water. “Well? Go on. You looked like you were having fun.”

“Yeah. I mean – yes, Sir.”

“Better. Now, get your mouth back on my cock.”

Niketas wrapped his lips around the tip, licked all over then took him deeper and moaned softly as Stelios pulled his hair. Despite the fact that he’d come what – three times? Four? – while Stelios was fucking him, while he’d been tied up, Niketas felt his cock twitching against his thigh, getting harder while he sucked. God, what was wrong with him?

Submissive.

The word echoed in the voices of both his Alphas, Luka’s amusement and Stelios’ desire.

Was this what it meant, too? Not just liking the way Stelios tied him up, kept him from coming – liking to be on his knees for him? Wanting the taste of him…wanting his moans, his heavy breaths. Fuck.

Niketas shifted and almost reached for his own cock, but he knew without even asking that Stelios wouldn’t allow that. Instead he sucked harder, licked under the head where he knew he liked to be teased himself and tightened his grip on Stelios’ thighs when Stelios groaned and thrust up into his mouth.

“Knew you’d be – good with that mouth. More tongue, yes, like that. Just like that. Can you take more?”

Niketas moaned, sucked harder and took another inch, then another, choked and had to pull back. Then Stelios’ hands were in his hair, guiding him as he gave soft instructions. “Relax. Relax your throat or you won’t be able to take it. Better. Now swallow. Swallow. Yes. Enough now , back up – oh that’s good. So good with your tongue. Take it again for me, just like that.”

He moved his hands lightly through Niketas’ hair, barely pulling, almost a caress. Niketas moaned and obeyed, and this time took Stelios’ cock deeper, more than half, before he had to pull back again and take a breath. He kept doing that, again, and again, until Stelios tightened a fist in his hair and swore.

“Fuck. So good. Gonna come in your mouth – is that what you want, Niketas?”

“Mmm – mmmm.” He wanted to taste it, wanted to feel Stelios come and know he’d done it, wanted to hear him moaning – wanted to taste it. He sucked harder, pointed the tip of his tongue and traced over and over that sensitive spot just under the head of Stelios’ cock, and got just what he’d wanted.

He groaned loud and his fingers went tight in Niketas’ hair, held him still while Stelios bucked his hips up again and again, fucking into his mouth as he came. Sweet. Salt. Bitter. Stelios. Niketas shuddered, licked all around the tip of Stelios’ cock and swallowed him down again, wanting more – more.

He sucked and a last few drops spilled hot onto his tongue, but he didn’t lift his mouth away until Stelios pulled him back by his hair.

“Stop that, before I make you do it all again.”

“I’ll do it again -”

His breathing was unsteady and heavy, his voice more eager than his words, but he didn’t care. Stelios chuckled, reached down and wiped under Niketas’ bottom lip with his thumb.

“Yes, you will.”

Niketas licked at his thumb, sucked a drop of come off it and was surprised at Stelios’ sudden growl, the heat of his mouth pressed against Niketas’. Stelios kissed him harder, deeper, fucked his mouth with his tongue and never mind that Niketas had to taste like nothing but him. It was almost like he –

“Taste so good, Niketas. Even better with me on your tongue.”

“You – you like that?” He panted against Stelios’ mouth as he kissed him again.

“Yes. But that’s enough of that for now, I brought you in here to clean you up and look you over, not make more of a mess out of you. Not tonight, anyway.”

“O-Oh.”

Stelios laughed at him again. “Too eager for your own good, aren’t you? Get over here.” He made room on the ledge beside him, and Niketas sat and endured Stelios’ examination without complaint. His wrists, his back, the line of bites along his throat, still radiating heat – then Stelios slid a hand down, cupped his ass and squeezed.

“Stand up for me now. Hands against the wall, and bend over so I can look at that tight little hole of yours.”

Niketas swallowed once, stood slowly and turned his back to Stelios, then leaned over as he’d been told. Stelios’ hands were on his ass almost immediately, squeezing him, then holding him open. “Ropes didn’t chafe at all. Good.” Then one hand let go and Niketas moaned as Stelios traced a finger over his hole, circled it and pressed barely inside him.

“A little red, but that’s not bad. Are you hurting any?”

“No, god I – it doesn’t…hurt.”

Stelios let go of him and smacked him once, just sharp enough to sting. “Good. Wash up now.” Niketas sucked in a breath and stayed where he was for another moment, but Stelios was already sloshing to his feet. “Didn’t hear me? Wash up, I said. I want you scrubbed up good for me.”

“Alright, alright, I -”

“What was that?”

“I – I mean, yes, Sir.”

Despite what he’d said, by the time Niketas was cleaned up and Stelios was ready to get out of the water, the long soak had reduced his desire to a low ebb. He was tired, exhausted, wanted to curl up in a warm corner of furs somewhere and…

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner -”

“You’ve gotta be hungry by now.”

Niketas rubbed his eyes, shook his head and yawned as he stood, sloshing, and climbed out of the tub. “Um…food’s…yeah.” He accepted a towel from Stelios and was surprised at how warm it was – fancy stuff all over. “Guess I’m hungry but it’s not like I’m used to having a whole lotta choices. Just whatever we hunted, so-”

“I know what life’s like with a pack, Niketas, you don’t have to tell me. Knowing is why I live here.” The corners of his lips twitched up for just a moment. “Alright, I don’t feel like going out – I’ll call in steaks, you just want the meat or something else too?”

Niketas lifted an eyebrow. “Place like this and you do your own cooking?”

Stelios looked at him, then grinned and shook his head. “You…are…I don’t even know what you are. What are you blushing for now?”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” Stelios wrapped his towel around his waist, then reached out and stroked his thumbs over Niketas’ cheeks. “You are. Thinking dirty thoughts again?”

“No, I – Look, I just don’t really know what I’m doing here, alright? I don’t fit this kinda place, I don’t…I’m scared to touch anything in case I break it, probably cost more’n my life’s worth – damn towel probably did, fuck.” He cinched it as he spoke, and glared up as Stelios chuckled at him.

“Cute. But why do you think any of that matters to me? You think I don’t know that? I just told you, I know what it’s like living with a pack.” He grabbed hold of Niketas’ towel and jerked him close, mouthed at his throat, nuzzled his cheek then kissed him. “You’re here…mm.” Another kiss, deeper, and then he pulled back again.

“You’re here because Luka thought you needed to be punished. Because he thought I’d be good for you. You’re staying because I think he was right…a little. And because I think you’ll be good for me.”

He bit Niketas’ lip, licked up his moan and kissed him again. “Because I like the way you moan for me, the way you open up for me – the way you try to defy me and then beg for me. And it’s all just for me, only for me – nobody else has ever had you.”

“Luka—”

“Wasn’t your lover, and he’s never going to be.”

Niketas dropped his gaze. That stung, no matter how true it was, but Stelios tilted his head back up again and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Am I not good enough, is that it? You want to go back to your pack, your Alpha?” He looked…almost resigned, as if he actually thought that was what Niketas was thinking, but the blue of his eyes was burning cerulean bright. Niketas sucked in a breath and shook his head.

“No, no. You’re – good enough, more than good enough, I’m the one that’s – don’t you get it, that’s why I – no, you’re – my Alpha too. My Alpha.” There was hardly any space between them anyway, but Niketas pressed himself tight against Stelios chest, wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and kissed him.

It was only once he’d done it that he realized he hadn’t kissed Stelios before on his own initiative – he’d never kissed any man like this before. Another first for Stelios, then.

He snickered a little, and Stelios pulled back to give him a questioning look. “’S my first kiss – well, first one I ever gave to a man, anyway. You-mmph!” Stelios slammed him back against the wall, but it was the cold damp of the tile that shocked the breath out of him, and the heated intensity of Stelios’ mouth as he kissed him quiet.

“Do you know what that does? Do you know what that does to me? All your firsts.”

Stelios kissed him again, then again, deep and hot. When he stopped Niketas caught himself on the edge of a whimper, because he didn’t want him to stop, but Stelios smirked at him even though he’d managed to keep back the sound.

“Cute. Get dressed, I’ll call down for dinner.

Niketas stared at him as he strode out of the bathroom and turned the corner into his bedroom, then scowled and stalked back to the playroom where he’d left his clothes.

He muttered to himself as he pulled his shirt on and scowled as the silk stuck to his skin. “Cute, he says. The fuck, I’m not – seriously? Fuckin’ -”

“I can still hear you, Niketas.”

The words floated down the hall toward him, and Niketas jerked his head up, flushing even though there was no one there.

For this week’s Friday Fun, it’s back to my own recent releases! As promised, have a taste of The Other Alpha,

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: Luka’s been having difficulty with one of his pack – the one who should be the least likely member to cause trouble. His omega, Niketas, has grown suddenly defiant. A little observation is enough to convince him that the problem is a feeling, or at least a desire. Niketas wants Luka for a lover…but Luka has no interest in men. Enter Stelios, Luka’s solution to his pack problem. Stelios is Luka’s twin, but the two are almost opposites. Stelios is rich, a business man with his own company. He lives in the city, away from the mountains Luka and his pack prefers…and Stelios does like men. When Luka’s omega turns out to be a stunning, dark haired submissive with no idea what submissive really means, Stelios is caught. There can be pleasure in punishment, but Stelios will only take as much as Niketas is willing to give. Can Niketas get over his fixation with Luka enough to give in to what he really wants? Or will pride keep him from submitting to this other Alpha?

Excerpt

Luka’s brother turned and glanced at him, a glance that became a slow, smoldering stare. He looked Niketas up and down, and Niketas felt every place his eyes lingered—the hard bulge of his cock in his jeans, his fists clenched by his thighs, the lip he was biting…

Then he looked into Niketas’ eyes, and despite himself Niketas couldn’t defy him directly any more than he could defy Luka.

He whined softly, tilted back his throat and cast his gaze off to the side—and then, much to his surprise, felt a wet, hot lick of tongue go up his throat. Then teeth, pressed gently into his skin, holding him still and arousing him beyond belief.

Luka had never done that to him while he was still in a man’s shape, no one had. Niketas moaned before he could stop himself, pressed his hips up and then froze as he felt an erection even thicker than his own pressing right back against his cock.

He sucked in a breath, heard Luka laughing in the background while a warm hand took hold of his chin and forced him to look into blue, burning eyes. “Well, aren’t you something. Niketas, are you? I’m Stelios.”

“I know that—”

“Good.”

He bent over Niketas’ mouth and kissed him. Niketas gasped in surprise. He’d never kissed a man before, and Stelios had Luka’s blue eyes, yes, but with a fire in them that promised much more than just a kiss even as he deepened it. Niketas opened his mouth when Stelios licked his lips, accepted Stelios’ tongue and moaned at the hot touch of it on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, and he started to reach up, wrap his arms around broad, hot shoulders.

Stelios pulled back, and left Niketas standing alone in the middle of the room, flushed and harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“You see what I mean?” It was Luka’s voice, and Niketas couldn’t help looking over at him. “He’s perfect for you, Stelios. He wants me too much, and I can’t keep—”

“Tell me you haven’t been trying to punish him the pack way.” Stelios’ amusement was obvious, and Niketas stared straight at the floor. Luka cleared his throat, and Stelios started laughing. “Well done, little brother. Well done. I’m sure that made him want you so much less. All right, I’ll take him off your hands. For a while, anyway. Until I decide if I really like him or not.”

Niketas scowled and looked up, but Luka was just nodding, zipping up his jacket, turning for the—door? “Luka, don’t just—you can’t just leave me here with him!”

“Yes, I can. I’m Alpha, remember? And I already told you, as far as you’re concerned, so is Stelios.”

This week’s Friday Fun once again comes…from a guest! Welcome author Briana Lawrence, who you might recognize from last week’s teaser! This week, she’s sharing a bit from her new erotic short, Lemon Wedges!

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: There’s some fetishes that we’re allowed to wear out in the open. Others, we have to keep tucked away in our closets. Unbeknownst to the people around him, Kaeden is walking that fine line in stylish heels. But with the release of a new brand, “Lemon Wedges,” Kaeden is finding it hard to keep his desires behind closed doors, especially when his sexy roommate, Stephen, gets a taste of his fashionable little secret.

Warning: This book is explicit, gay erotica, and contains graphic descriptions of sex. Please be aware of this when you purchase and enjoy a slice of devious pie without feeling guilty.

Excerpt

“Stephen?”

The apartment is blessfully quiet with no signs of his roommate anywhere. He knocks on Stephen’s bedroom door to make sure. “You in there?” Nothing. With the coast clear Kaeden goes to his bedroom and kicks off his work shoes. His feet are thankful for it, but the best is yet to come.

The sound is the first thing that gets to him, the soft noise of him lifting the top of the shoebox. Next comes the smell, the fragrance of his brand new shoes. There’s something about that aroma, something akin to a new perfume that demands attention. It’s the kind of thing that makes you stop what you’re doing just to get a taste. Kaeden sits down and carefully slides his left foot into the shoe. He doesn’t buckle the strap, not yet.

Despite his earlier eagerness he needs to draw this out, needs to take it slow and enjoy the seductive build up. His foot arches up with the wedge and creates a sensual, almost powerful image that’s balanced out with the yellow. He buckles the strap above his ankle and quickly does the same with the other shoe. He’s impatient now. The slow dance becomes a desperate grind as he stands up and takes the first steps in his wedges.

The wedges don’t caress the floor as loudly as the red heels had done before. It’s more of a subtle whisper for attention in comparison. He’s never tried a color this bright before, but when he looks in the full length mirror he can’t help but smile. He’s used to the striking colors, the deep blacks, blues and purples.

He finally settled on red, a color he’s been loyal to for quite sometime, especially when it came to high heels. But now he’s discovering the beauty of the brighter edge of the color spectrum. These lemon wedges aren’t as direct as the heels that sit in the back of his closet. They’re playful and flirty. They sneak a peek at the object of their affections and giggling cutely before they walk away.

Kaeden kneels down and rolls up his pant legs to his knees. There. There it is. His legs are so long in the wedges and the yellow serves as a way to enhance the illusion. He puts his hands on his hips and winks, actually winks, at his reflection. It’s a side of himself he’s not used to. With the tattoos and piercings he’s expected to be the bad influence. He’s the seducer who will pull you into a grimy bathroom without a care in the world. The red heels had enhanced that image — which he wasn’t entirely against.

He definitely has those lip licking moments where he can curl his finger at a love interest to get them to follow him to hell and back. But, sometimes, he enjoys something lighter. Sometimes, he enjoys something more subtle and relaxed with the hint of play.

Want more? Try this teaser of next week’s Friday Fun, from my own new erotic short, out tomrrow – The Other Alpha!

“Stelios?” The name slipped past Niketas’ lips before he could think about it. He avoided Luka’s stare and studied a spot on the wall beside him. “I’ve never met him, and you don’t talk about him much. Why him? Why’s he not in your pack? If he’s not a wolf then—”

“Quiet.”

He shut his mouth, and Luka squinted at him, then shrugged. “I don’t talk about him because I don’t understand him, even if Stelios is my twin.” His smirk returned, but faintly. “You should like that.”

This week’s Friday Fun once again comes…from a guest! Welcome author Destiny Dawn, who’s sharing a bit from a new erotic short, Blushing Apples!

(And of course, remember, this sort of Friday Fun is NSFW!)

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From The Back Cover: Elana really can’t help herself when she steals the first bite and it’s all downhill from there. After seeing the fruit every day, she thought one would be enough, but to her flustered surprise it’s not. All she can think about is the succulent apple in her hand and the taste across her lips. She hungers for more, and is willing to do anything for another taste.

Warning: This book contains situations involving feeding and threesomes. This book is fully adult and contains graphic descriptions of sex. Please be aware of this when you purchase and enjoy a slice of devious pie without feeling guilty.

Excerpt

The bite of the apple was sweet and tangy in the back of her throat. Her teeth pressed through the thin skin and penetrated to the juice beneath. Elana closed her eyes and savored the taste, completely distracted as a couple drops had escaped her lips and trickled down her chin. Out in the warm sun, the taste of the fruit was perfect, the feeling slipping from her tongue, down her throat, and to her chest like the hands of a lover teasing at a night of passion.

Elana paused in the bite to lick her lips and marveled at the fact that her body was tingling from the taste. For a moment she remembered where she was, standing in an orchard picking apples and surrounded by other women. The trees were tall around her, their voluminous branches reaching across, shattering the hot sunlight around her, but not breaking up the oppressing heat. She could see several of the other women taking breaks to tie up their hair and duck into the shadows for a short cool breath.

Her own thick dress was already clinging to her pale skin with sweat, her long black hair starting to escape the cloth tied around her head, attempting to tame the tangled mess. Like them she was hot and sweaty, worn from an afternoon of work, but unlike them she’d given into temptation and stolen one of the apples from her work basket.

She’d tried to resist, tried to remind herself of the people around her and how they could turn to watch her at any moment. Normally it wouldn’t have been an issue, but today it was just too much. The sun was too high in the sky and the clothes wrapped around her body were too thick – a single refreshing bite had to be stolen.

Turning to hide her crime from the others in the shade of a particularly large tree, she took another bite. This time the wave of pleasure slipped embarrassingly between her legs and she shifted under her skirts, hoping no one noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be eating the apples here, much less be feeling like that. Luckily her skirts were long, full and dyed dark to hide the wear and tear of daily use.

No one would be able to see how she was pressing her thighs together, or how they were trembling at the thought of another bite. Swallowing the sounds she wanted to make, Elana set down her basket and tried to catch her breath. Around her the other women were filling their baskets and hadn’t noticed her stealing a fruit, at least not yet.

Tucking the fruit away she lifted her skirts and stepped off the path, ducking out of sight to find somewhere safe and private.